Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1887-04-02
CUR YOUNG FOLKS.
THE OLD STORY OF "BEN BOLT.

THE OLD STORY OF "BEN BOLT"
Don't YOU remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,
Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her
And trembled with fear at your frown2
n the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt
In a corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted slab of the granite so gray
And sweet Alice lies under the stone.
Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt.
That stood at the foot of the hill,
Together we've lain in the MONDAY shade
And listened to Appletons mill
The ill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,
The rafters have tumbled IN,
And quiet that crawis round the walls as you
gaze
Has followed the olden din.
Do you remember the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt,
AT the edge OF the painless wood
And the buttonban tree with its motley limbs
Where nigh by the doorstep stood?
The Goblin to ruin has gone, Ben Bolt,
You wonld look for the tree in vain
And where once the lords of the forest waved,
Grow grass and the golden grain.
And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
With the master, so cruel and grim,
And the shaded nook in the running brook,
Where the children went to swim?
Grass grows on the masters grave, Ben Bolt,
The spring of the brook is dry
And of all the boys who were schOolmates then,
There are only you and |.
Afffffffn
BEN BOLTS REPLY.
Oh, yes, remember her name with delight,
Sweet Alice so cherished and dear,
1 seek her grave in the pale hour of night
And moisten the turf with tear.
And when the heart is oerburdened with woes
/ wander and muse all alone,
And long for the time when my head shall re-
pose
Where sweet Alice lies, under the stone.
I roam through the woods, where SO Joyous
we've strayed,
and recline on the green sunny hill;
All things are bright in that beautiful glade,
But my heart is all lonely and chill.
The hand that so fondly pressed in my own,
And the lips that were melting with love-
Are cold in the grave and am left all alone
Till meet with sweet Alice above.
All, wen remember the school-house and
brook,
And the master so kind and so true;
The wild blooming flowers in the cool shady
nook,
As fragrant with incense and dew;
But weep not for thee, though so dear to my
heart.
Or the friends that have left me alone,
The bosom will heaye, and the tear-drop start,
For sweet Alice lies under the stone.
BEN BOLTS GRAVE.
By the side Of sweet Alice they have laid Ben
Where Oft he longed to repose:
For there he would kneel with the early spring
flowers,
And plant on his darling the rose.
His heart was as true as the star to his gaze,
When tossed on the pillows alone,
But now 1t is cold and forever at rest,
For he calmly lies under the stone.
At last he is gone TO the bright spirit land,
And free from all sorrow and pain,
He tastes the full rapture of angels above,
TO meet with sweet Alice again.
We gather the flowers from the green. shady
brook,
And moss from the silent old mill.
To strew Ger the grave where now doth repose
The hearts that death hardly could chill
And oft when the soul has grown weary and
sad,
We come by the twilight alone,
To muse DER the spot, where together Ben Bolt
and sweet Alice lie, under the stone.